


Something Borrowed

by lauraa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Cheating, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Kind of cheating, M/M, Mpreg, Sex, Something Borrowed, Sterek end game, True Love, males can get pregnant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:45:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1454206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraa/pseuds/lauraa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My eyes are closed, then they open, then closed again.<br/>And then somehow, I am having sex with my best friends fiancee</p><p> </p><p>A something borrowed AU pretty much. Where males getting pregnant can happen</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, SO this is pretty much Something Borrowed but with the Teen Wolf cast.  
> all mistake are my own and stuff  
> thanks  
> Comment and let me know what you think!

I first thought about turning 30 when I was in fifth grade. My best friend Scott and I were flipping through a calendar book looking for what day our birthday fell on the next year. Mine being a Wednesday, a school night. His being on a Friday. A small victory for him, but typical for me. Scott always seems to have luck on his side. He got the cooler bike, the better pokemon cards. All the older ladies would pinch his cheeks and would praise him for his lopsided smile , while I was called gangly and was told I would grow into my body, more known for my brains and the endless stream of sarcasm that poured out of my mouth, even at such a young age. Looking at my thirtieth birthday, so far in to the future it felt like science fiction, it was on a Sunday, meaning I would be out with my dashing husband, and I would hire the best baby sister to care for our 2, maybe 3, perfect children. We would dine at the finest restaurant, both dressed to the nines. I would have just won a big case, somehow proving that the innocent man in fact didn't do it. My husband would toast to me “To Stiles, my handsome husband, the father to much children, and the finest lawyer in Beacon”. Upon telling my fantasy to Scott, he promptly check his birthday, a Monday for him. Bummer. I watch him pout his lips,processing.  
“You know, Stiles, who cares what day of the week it is when we turn thirty?” shrugging his small shoulders. “We'll be old by then. Birthdays don't matter when you get that old.”  
I thought about my parents, both in their thirties. My moms birthday had been the month prior, my dad got her a toaster, the old one broke a week before. She seems excited, the new one being about to toast 4 pieces instead of two. Scott was probably right, birthday just didn't matter when you got that old.

The next time I think about turning thirty is when I'm in my senior year of high school. Scott and I marathon the seasons of Friends. While the show was funny, I couldn't help think about the drama that they put themselves through could have easily been avoided if they would just suck it up and grow up. Stop acting like children and start making grocery lists. That was when I thought my teenage years were dragging and that my twenties would definitely last forever.

Then I reached my twenties, and the early twenties did seem to last forever, when I had acquaintances talk about turning thirty I felt smug, not in the danger zone yet. I still had plenty of time. Until I reached about age 27, where the days of being carded are over, I began to marvel to how fast time was going, remembering my mother's annual speech about how fast they years go by. At age twenty-nine the real dread sets in, I realize in a lot of ways that I may as well be thirty, but not quite, I could still say I was in my twenties. I still had something in common with college seniors.

I realize that thirty is just a number, you are only as old as you feel and all that. I also realize that thirty is still young. But its not that young. Its past the most ripe prime childbearing years. Its too old to say, start training for an Olympic medal, even in the best die of old age scenario, you are still about one-third of the way to the finish line. So I can't help but feel uneasy as I sit on the over stuffed couch in a dark club on the Upper West Side at my surprise party that Scott, who is still my best friend put on.  
Tomorrow is the Sunday I first thought about as a fifth grader playing with our phonebook. After tonight my twenties will be over forever, another chapter closed. The feeling I have reminds me of New Years Eve when the count down is coming and I'm not sure if I should grab my camera or just live in the moment. Normally I grab my camera and regret it later when the picture comes back to dark and blurry, after I feel terribly let down, and think about how the night would have been more fun if it hadn't been so important.

Like New Years Eve, tonight is a end and a beginning. I don't like ending and beginnings. The worst thing about this particular ending (my youth) and beginning (of middle age) is the for the first time in my life I have no idea where i'm going. My wants are simple; a job that I like and a man whom I love. And on the night of my thirtieth, I face the fact that I am 0 for 2.

First off, im an attorney for large firm in New York City, so by definition that means that I am miserable. Being a lawyer just isn't as fun as they seem to make it in the movies. I work excruciating hours, for an very mean, anal retentive partner. Doing the most tedious tasks. I ended perfecting the law-firm associate mantra: I hate my job and I will quit my job. And I will, as soon as I pay off my school loans, just as soon as I get next years bonus, as soon as I can find something else to do to pay rent, or find someone that can pay for it.

Which brings me to my second point. I am alone is a city of millions. I have a ton of friends. Prove tonight by the solid turn out tonight. Friends to summer in the Hampton’s with, friends to meet up on Thursday night for a drink after work. And I have Scott, my best friend from home, a friend that I can do anything with. But of coarse everyone knows that friend aren't enough, I didn't plan on being alone in my thirties. I wanted a husband by now, I wanted to be a groom in my twenties. But I have learned even if you make your own timetable, life doesn’t care. So here I am on a brink of a new decade, realizing that being alone makes my thirties more daunting, and that being thirty makes me feel more alone.

My inner turmoil is even more sad because my oldest and best friend has a glamorous PR job and is freshly engaged, Scott is still the lucky one. I watch her now, telling a story to the group the surrounds him, including his fiance. Derek and Scott are a beautiful couple. Scott, was tall and muscular, with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes, a crooked smile that makes your heart melt, Derek with raven coloured hair, slight stubble on his face, and green eyes that glinted like jewels. They are among New York’s elite. The well groomed couple registering for fine china and crystal at Bloomingdales. You hate their smugness but you can help but stare as you looking for a not to expensive vase for the umpteenth wedding you've been invited to without a date. You would catch a glance at Scott’s ring and would instantly regret it. He would catch you staring and would give you a disdainful once-over. You wish you hadn't worn just a hoodie and jeans into the store. You buy your Waterford vase and get the hell outta there.

“So the lesson of the story is, if you ask for a wax make sure you tell them to leave a landing strip or you end up looking like a hairless ten year old” Scott finishes his baldy story, everyone laugh expect Derek, who has a smile small on his face and is shaking his head as if to say what a piece of work his fiancee is.

“Okay, ill be right back! Tequila shots for everyone!” Scott suddenly shouts, stepping away from the group and over to the bar. He is flirting with the bartender which he already told me he would “totally do” if he was single. It occurs to me that I could try and hook up with the bartender. I am completely unattached, I haven't had a date in 3 months. But one night stands doesn't seem like something someone in their thirties should do. 

Scott returns with the shots in hand, he quickly throws it back but Derek refuses his, Scott turns to me and insists I take two. Quickly the night is taking on a blurry edge of drunk. Apparently Scott has reached that point faster then I have because he is up dancing on the bar, shaking his hips, grinding back on the air.

“Stealing the show at your own party” Kira, my close friend from work, says to me under her breath, “He’s shameless”  
I laugh “Yeah, par for the coarse”  
Scott lets out a yelp and claps his hands in the air, he beckons me over with a come hither look that would appeal to any man or women that would have to see some man-on-man action. “Stiles! Stiles, come up here!”  
Of course he know that i'm not going to, I smile and shake my head politely declining. We all wait for his next move, which is to grab a shot and rise it up “ Happy birthday Stiles! Everyone raise a glass!” he shouts. Everyone raises their glass and Scott downs his shot.  
A minute later Derek is whisking him off the bar, putting him over his shoulder then swiftly deposits him on the floor, all in one fluid motion, clearly he has done this before. “ Alright” He announces. “I'm taking our little party planner home”  
Scott plucks his drink off the bar and stomps his foot “You're not the boss of me Der! Is he, Stiles?” as he says that his martini sloshes onto Dereks shoe.  
He scowls. “C'mon Scott, you're wasted. This isn't fun for any one but you”  
“Okay. Okay. I'll go… I'm feeling kind of sick anyways” He said pouting, looking kind of queasy  
“Are you going to be okay?”  
“Im going to be just fine. Don’t you worry.” He says, now playing the part of the brave little sick boy.

I thank him for the party, tell him it was a total surprise, which it wasn't, I know Scott would go all out on my thirtieth. He starts gushing about what he would do without me, his brother, his man of honour, his rock.  
Derek cut him off “Happy birthday Stiles, we will talk to you tomorrow.” He kisses me on the cheek.  
“Thanks Der.” I say. “Goodnight”  
I watch him usher Scott out of the building holding onto his arm because Scott almost tripped and smashed his face off the pavement. Oh to have such a caretaker, to be able to drink with reckless abandonment and know that there is someone to make sure that you get home safely.  
Sometime later Derek shows up at the bar again. “ Scott think he lost his jacket in here” He says “Have you seen it?”  
“He lost his new Chanel jacket?” I shake my head and laugh because its just like Scott to leave stuff places. I help Derek look for Scott’s jacket, finally spotting it under a table.  
As he turns to leave Derek’s friend Danny, one of his groomsmen, convinces him to stay. “C'mon man. Hang out for a minute”  
So Derek calls Scott, and he slurs his constant telling him to have fun without him, he probably thinks that couldn't be possible.  
Gradually my friends start to leave, wishing me a final happy birthday, till Derek and I outlast everyone. Even Isaac. We sit at the bar making conversation with the bar back until we are told that we have to get out.  
Derek is hailing me a cab when he turns around and asks if I would like one more drink before we call it a night.  
We get into the cab and he tells the driver to just drive, that he has to think about where to go next. We end up in Alphabet City, at a bar called CJ5. 

The bar isn't as swanky as the one the held my party. CJ5 is dingy and smoke filled.  
Derek points to a booth. “Have a seat, I’ll be right with you” he turns to walk towards to be before turning back “ What can I get for you?” He asks.  
I tell him I'll have whatever he has, then go to sit and wait for him at the booth.  
I watch him say something to a girl at the bar wearing army green cargo pants, and a shirt that says Fallen Angel. She smiles at whatever he says and shake her head.  
A moment later Derek is sliding in the seat opposite from me. Pushing a beer across the table into my hands.  
“Newcastle” he says. Then smiles, crinkly lines form at the sit of his eyes.  
I nod and smile. Out of the corner of my eyes I can see Fallen Angel turn in her chair and survey Derek. Taking his chiselled features, his dark hair and his full lips. Scott often complained that Derek got more double take then he does. Unlike Derek’s counterpart, Derek doesn't seem to notice the attention. Fallen Angel now casts her eyes my way. Probably wondering why someone like Derek, is with someone so average. I hope she thinks we are a couple. Tonight nobody has to know that I am only part of the wedding party.

Derek and I talk about our jobs and summering in the Hamptons, that he and I are splitting this summer with some of our friends. After we finish our beers we go over to the Jukebox that’s in the corner of the room. We fill it with dollars bills then push the buttons for the song we both agreed on.  
A while later its last call at CJ5, we order a couple more beers and we return to our booth. Sometime later we are in a cab again, going north on First Avenue.  
“Two stops” Derek tells our cabbie, because we live on two opposite sides of Central park . I glance a the silver dial of his Rolex, a gift from Scott. Its just shy of four o’clock.  
We sit silently looking out of our respective windows, until the cab hit’s a pothole and I am launched into the middle of the back seat, my leg grazes Dereks. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Derek kisses me, or maybe I kiss him . Somewhere we are kissing. My mind goes blank as I listen to the soft sound of our lips meeting again and again. At some point Derek knocks the plastic that is separating the back from the front and tell the cabbie ,in-between kisses, that there is actually only going to be one stop.  
We arrive in front of my building, when the cab stops Derek hands him a gets out of the cab, not waiting for his change.  
We kiss on the sidewalk, then in front of Jose, my door man. We kiss the whole way up in the elevator. My back pressed up against the wall, my hands are at the back of Derek’s head, surprised that his hair is so soft.  
I fumble with my key, turning it the wrong way, as Derek keeps his arms around my waist pressing kisses into my neck and the side of my face. Finally the door opens and we are kissing in the middle of my studio, standing upright, leaning on nothing but each other. We stumble, kissing, over to my neatly made bed.  
“Are you drunk?” He whispers into the darkness.  
“No” I whisper back, because you always say no when you are drunk, even though I am a little. Scott is in my mind but gets pushed back, overwhelmed by a force stronger then our friendship and my own conscience. Derek moves over me. My eyes are closed, then they open, then closed again.

And then somehow, I am having sex with my best friend's fiancee


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Hey Der, This is Stiles” I say, trying to sound normal._  
>  You know, the man of honour in your up-coming wedding- the man you just had wonderful hot sex with last night?  
> “Hey Stiles” He says casually. “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people.  
> The first chapter got some negative feedback and stuff.  
> First things first, Scott and Stiles CANNOT be together in this fic. No way not happening, it wouldn't make sense with the plot I have in my head, they have to be bff. Plus fics with them being together are weird, they are bros. In no way should they ever bump uglies. Ever.  
> THAT BEING SAID. Derek and Scott, they love each other but they arent really in love per say. SO thats why I didnt tag them as a couple because this story is about Stiles and Derek. Hence Sterek end up tag up there ^.  
> So if you have an questions I will gladly answer, if I made mistake please let me know. But the couplings are not going to change!  
> Sorry not sorry!  
> |Also keep commenting and stuff because I love that shit ;)  
> Enjoy my sexy little shippers.

I wake up to my home phone ringing, and for a second I am disoriented in my own apartment. Feeling a body pressed up against my back. Well, that’s not supposed to be there. Then I hear Scott frantic voice over the phone, urging me to pick up, pick up, please pick up. My night suddenly snaps back into memory. I sit up to quickly, a wave of nausea and lightheadedness rolls over me. Derek’s back is facing me, sculpted and smooth, my hands tingle at the memory of sliding down his back, running through his hair. With one finger I jab at his back, hard.  
He rolls over and looks at me, blinking sleep out of his eyes before everything clicks “ Oh Christ! What time is it?”  
My cell phone tells me that its 7:15. We both jump out of the bed, I bring the blanket with me. Leaving Derek totally in the nude.

“DON'T BE NAKED” I shout at him when I notice, looking on the ground and finding his pants, I thought them in the direction of his face. The message machine cuts Scott off. He calls back, ranting about how Derek never came home last night, again being cut off mid- sentence. He calls back a third time, this time wailing that I need to call him, he needs me.

“Oh my god, what do we do? Should I call him? Tell him you crashed here?” My voice horse and shaky, I grab a pillow and hug it to me.

“Hell,no! Don’t pick me- give me a second to think” He sits down, only in his boxers, and rubs his jaw, which is now looking more like a fuller beard versus his regular stubble.  
Sobering dread washes over me. I start to cry, which never helps with anything.

“Look Stiles, please don’t cry.” Derek says. “ Everything is going to be okay”

He puts on his jean, then pulls his shirt over his head as though it was an ordinary morning. Then he grabs his Iphone that was on the carpet next to my bed. “Shit, 12 missed calls” He says matter-of-factly, he exterior calm, only his eyes showing distress.

When he is dressed, he sits back on the edge of my bed, and rests his forehead in his hands, breathing hard through his nose. Then he looks over at me. “Okay, here’s what's going to happen. Stiles, look at me.”  
I obey his instructions, clutching my pillow.

“This will be fine. Just listen” He’s talking to me as if I am client in a conference room, professional and calm.

“Okay. Im listening” I say back to him.

“Im going to tell him I stayed out with Danny until five or so, then we got breakfast together. We got it covered” 

“What do I tell him? Oh my god Derek he is my best friend” I ask, lying was never really my strong suit.

“Just tell him you left the party and went home.. Say you can't remember for sure if I was still there or not when you left, but you think you I was still there with Danny, but make sure you say you think. You cant be to definite. And that’s all you know.” He points to my phone which is plugged into the wall “Call him back now, as soon as I leave here I'm going to call Danny. Got it?”  
I nod, eyes filling with tears again as he stands to leave.

“And calm down” He says, not meanly, but firmly, my mind flashes back to last night and how his voice sounds when we are together so intimately. Then he is at the door, one hand on the door knob, the other running throw his dark hair that is just long enough to be extremely sexy.

“What if he already talked to Danny?” I asked, Derek already halfway out the door, then muttering under my breath “We are so fucked”  
He turns around, looks at me through the doorway. For a second I think he is going to be angry, tell me to nut up or shut up, that this isn't life or death. But when he speaks its very gentle, almost fond. “Stiles, we are not fucked. I got it covered. Just say what I told you to say. And Stiles?”

“Yeah”

“ Im really sorry”

“Yeah” I say “ Me too”

Are we talking to each other- or to Scott?  
As soon as Derek leaves I grab my phone, still feeling dizzy. It takes a few minutes, but I finally work up enough nerves to call Scott.

When he picks up he is in hysterics “That bastard didn't come hang last night! He better being a hospital bed!… Stiles, do you think he cheated on me?”  
I start to say no, that he was probably with Danny. But I think better of it, it would make it to obvious. I cant think. My heart and head are pounding and the room is starting to spin. “ Im sure he isn't cheating on you” I manage to mumble out.

He huffs out in his annoyance “ Why are you sure?”

“Because he wouldn't do that to you, he loves you Scott.” I cant believe my words, how easy they are coming to me.

“Well. Then. Where the fuck is he? The bars close by four maybe five. Its seven-freaking-thirty!”

“I don’t know.. There has to be a logical explanation”

Which there is. He was with me all night.

He asks me what time I left, whether he was there or not, and who was he with. All the questions Derek prepped me for. I answer carefully, as instructed. I suggest she calls Danny.  
“I already called him” He says. “That dumbass didn't answer his goddamn phone”  
Yes, we have a chance, I think to myself.

I hear the beep of the call waiting, then Scott is gone, then back telling me that its Derek and he will call me later.

I stand and walk unsteadily to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror my eyes are red from lack of sleep and burn from having my contacts in all night. I remove the contacts quickly before dry-heaving into my toilet. I haven’t thrown up from drinking since high school, and that was once. I swore I would never do that again, and I didn’t, instead of being like normal teenager and doing it again, I learned my lesson and stuck by it. That’s how I am. I learn from my mistakes. And I will learn from this one as well. Just please don’t let me get caught.

Showering off the smoke that still lingers in my hair and on my skin with my phone resting on the sink, just in case Scott or Derek calls. By noon the birthday calls start coming in.  
My parents do their annual serenade and the “guess where we were today thirty years ago” rotine. I manage to put on a good front, but when it turns three and Scott hasn't called me I start to feel sick. 

Did anyone see us at CJ5? In the cab? On the street? Anyone other than Jose who’s job is to know nothing? What was happening in their Upper East Side apartment? Had he gone mad and confused? Was Scott packing his bags? Were they having sex all day in an attempt to repair his conscience? Were they sill fighting going around in circles of accusations and denial? 

Fear must have completely overtook all my other emotions because crazily enough, I do not feel guilty about betraying my best friend. Not even when I found our used condom on the floor. The only real guilt I can muster is the guilt for not feeling guilty.  
Finally I can't take it any longer, I pick up my phone and call Scott’s cell number, it rings till it finally goes to voicemail. I hang up and tap in his landline, hope he will pick up. Instead Derek answers, I cringe.

“Hey Der, This is Stiles” I say, trying to sound normal.  
 _You know, the man of honour in your upcoming wedding- the man you just had wonderful hot sex with last night?_

“Hey Stiles” He says casually. “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”


End file.
